Apocalypsis Immortuos | Book 1 | Syndrome

by de Hoogh, Marco

  Nothing seemed to stir, so she crawled back out of the kitchen and down the hall. She passed the water to Michelle wordlessly, and turned back. They needed some food. Back in the kitchen once more, she grabbed whatever she could reach. A case of instant ramen noodles.

  We won’t be boiling water for these. I suppose we’ll just have to soak them to get them soft. She started to crawl back.

  Romy hesitated halfway out of the kitchen. It was still eerily silent out there.

  Romy knew that the kitchen window afforded a decent view of both the front and the side of the property. She knew there were still zombies around. But she had to see.

  She slowly got into a crouch position, then started to inch upward. Her legs protested and Romy almost stumbled. Her injured hip made itself known to her as she started to stand up. All these pains were forgotten when she got her glimpse out the window though.

  It confirmed her fear. They were still here.

  She counted about ten zombies in the front yard, and that was just from the angle that she could see. She knew there would be more. They stood frozen in place, in groupings of three or four. Their heads were down and turned to the side. Every one of them was facing the house.

  Like they know we’re here... Fear crept up Romy’s spine.

  Romy got to her hands and knees, significantly less confident. She got back to the basement hatch, ignoring Michelle’s quizzical looks. She didn’t say a word until the hatch was closed.

  Chapter Forty-seven

  The Ren

  The sun shone through the seams of the storm shutters, creating a multitude of rays of light against the walls. The diffused light was warm enough to give people a slight sense of comfort.

  Breakfast that morning was prepared by some of the male members of the group. Joe, Craig, Ern and Jack had combined their efforts and provided a hearty breakfast, consisting of scrambled eggs, bacon, and hash browns. There was also some bread left for toast, although that was kept apart from the rest of the meal. Nobody wanted to repeat the ordeal with Jack.

  As they ate, people were informed of the radio communication with Garcia last night. Most people took it in stride, continuing their meal with a shake of the head or a silent prayer.

  After cleanup, Craig requested that the group stay in the cafeteria for a team meeting. After a bit of reshuffling, everybody was seated and facing the stage. The smell of breakfast still hung in the air. Several people savoured it, knowing that fresh food was running out.

  Emily and Rachel sat conspicuously on opposite sides of the room. Rachel shot the English woman angry looks every now and then.

  Bill had taken the bandaging off his face. The skin around the stitches was still an angry shade of purple. He had taken a seat next to Emily.

  Craig stepped up and stood in front of the stage.

  “Morning folks. We have a few things to talk about. I hope you don’t mind, but I noted down a list of things to discuss.” Some people nodded. It felt good to have somebody organized around.

  “Hey dad, I have a question before you start.” Jack piped up.

  Craig looked at his son with upraised eyebrows. “What is it, Jack?”

  “Well, I’m sure this is on most peoples’ minds this morning...” He turned to Emily. “Emily, what’s a bippitybopper?” A couple of people laughed. They had all heard the term flying around.

  Emily laughed along and smiled at Jack. “Oy! It’s ‘dittybopper’. Get your army lingo straight, mate.” That got a fresh round of chuckles. “A dittybopper is slang for a radio operator. It used to stand for a Morse code operator. Now they call anybody attached to a radio a dittybopper.”

  Jack nodded appreciatively.

  “Alright. Thanks Emily. We’re all a little smarter!” Craig said with a smile, before pulling out his list. “Ok. My first item is the rotation of duties. I don’t think it will be good for our group if we have the same people doing all the work, so I suggest we rotate duties.”

  “What kind of stuff are you talking about?” Joe asked. His suspicion and disapproval already showing clearly.

  “Well, we need people to cook three meals a day. Then we need people to do the dishes and general cleaning. We also still need a few people that can help with security or lookout duty. Then there is the clinic. We need to make sure somebody is always available in case somebody gets hurt. And finally, there are those solar panels...”

  Ern stood up. “I got something else. You need somebody that can handle maintenance and upkeep. I volunteer myself for that position.” The old man sat down again.

  “Yeah, good one Ern. Thanks.”

  Rose spoke up next. “I would like it if the hand to hand combat lessons were to continue.”

  “And the weapons classes too!” Somebody else added.

  “Whoa! Hold on!” Craig said with a smile, his hands raised in surrender. “That’s all good stuff. Right Joe?” He looked over at Joe, who looked sullen. “Anyway, I created these sign-up sheets. I’ll put them on the wall over there” –he indicated to his left– “and people can sign up.”

  Craig put the sheets down on the stage behind him and turned back to the crowd. His expression had become serious. “We also need to talk about the folks in Willemtown and decide what we are going to do. Now, I know this isn’t easy for any of us. But let’s at least discuss this openly and respectfully...” He trailed off as an all too familiar person raised his hand.

  “We heard what Garcia said last night! I say that we take his advice and hunker down!” Joe said in an overly loud voice.

  “But these people need our help! Willemtown is less than fifty miles away. Why don’t we take that armoured vehicle, or that army truck and at least try!” John responded. His attempt to intimidate others had not worked on the ex army man at all.

  “We can’t just let these people die!” Shelley added her two cents.

  “Right. Hold on.” Emily got the group’s attention. “I tried to hail them this morning on the radio but was unable to make contact. Now, I know we’re supposed to contact them tonight, so they may not have been listening, but it’s also possible that they have already been rescued. Or ...” Emily’s voice trailed off.

  “So, we’re not sure if they are even there anymore, and we don’t even know what is out there. Who is to say that we can even make it over there?” Ern was firmly in the camp of lying low at the school. Nancy stood with her husband; her arm locked in his.

  “How do we know for sure that those people aren’t infected in the first place? This could put us all at risk!” Rachel stated. “Maybe they’re already dead.” She added coldly

  Emily stirred at that. Craig could tell she was about to lay into Rachel, so he interjected.

  “OK. HOLD IT!” He yelled. “Slow down, people. We can’t be at each other’s throats about this. Let’s just put this to a vote.” He was met with nods from the crowd.

  “Ok. Hands up if you are in favor of organizing a rescue mission.” Just over half a dozen hands flew up. Craig was dismayed to see Jack’s hand in the air. The other hands belonged to Keith, Shelley, Ethan, Rosa, Maria and Emily. Ethan’s family immediately started arguing with him. His mother going as far as to try to pull his hand down.

  “Hands up if you are opposed to organizing a rescue mission.” Nearly a dozen hands were raised. It was interesting to note that Patrick was opposed to the mission, while his wife was in favor of it. They looked at each other intently without a word being spoken. Nobody really noticed just how ashen faced the rich man was this morning. Patrick closed his eyes and squeezed the skin above his nose, apparently suffering from a headache.

  After tallying the numbers, Craig scratched his head. Looking slightly confused, he addressed the group. “It looks like we’re missing a few votes?”

  “Yeah, I abstained from voting.” Nat stated, intently staring at Craig. Craig raised his eyebrows, inviting the young woman to make her point.

  “I think that we have bigger issues. We’ve got people at each ot
her’s throats, as you just said yourself. And we’ve got people trying to control the group.” As she said this, she waved her hand like conducting an orchestra. But discerning people could see that she was pointing at Joe and Craig. Joe and Craig sure noticed.

  Joe bristled, which in turn was noticed by Nat. She looked right at him, not intimidated.

  “That’s right, Joe. You’re acting like you should be in charge. Well, I don’t recognize your authority. Just because you’re the loudest guy in the room, doesn’t qualify you to be the boss of me or any of these people!” Joe bristled even more at that.

  “WHY YOU SNOT-NOSED PUNK!” He yelled, and stood up, nearly upending his wife.

  “I’m not done.” Nat said, her voice surprisingly calm.

  Rachel and Christine pulled Joe back down to the bench, shushing the big man. “Let her speak, dad.” Christine said softly to Joe. Surprisingly, Joe got a hold of himself. With a couple of sharp breaths, he relaxed his pose somewhat. His eyes continued to stare daggers at Nat though.

  “Same goes for you, Craig. You just go about it in a sneaky way instead of being loud. Putting up your task lists... I don’t like it.” Craig’s face turned a shade of red. Deep down he could not argue the point though. He had used all the tools in his kit in order to manipulate the group, albeit not for any personal gain.

  “I’m just doing my best to keep these folks organized and cohesive, Nat.” He said indignantly.

  Nat was ready for that. “And how is that going? We’ve been here three days and we got fights breaking out!” She took a deep breath. “Look, I know we’re trying to keep our shit together. But don’t you all think that we should figure this” –she indicated the entire group– “out first, before we even consider anything else?”

  “She’s right, dad.” Jack said. Several others also nodded in agreement.

  Craig brought his hand to his forehead and closed his eyes for a second. “Ok.” He lowered his hand and stared at the group. “Let’s start over. What do we do?”

  Surprisingly, it was Mel who spoke up. “I think I have an idea.” When all eyes were turned to her, she continued.

  “Ok. First of all, I don’t think we should throw away these lists. Put them up. Some people are ready to commit their names to them.” She looked over at Nat as she said this.

  Then she continued. “I used to work for Army intelligence. One of the most important things I learned, was how to be an empath.”

  She stood up. “There is a science to it. I’m not going to bore you with the details of reading micro expressions, but I want you to know is that I’ve been paying attention. I can tell you that the overwhelming emotions that I read here are fear and grief.” She let that sink in for a moment.

  “Now, the fear part we can deal with by making sure we have a solid, secure place. We also need an organized way of responding to emergencies, so that everybody knows their job if something happens. We also need to invest ourselves into tasks, as these take our minds off our fear.” Mel had walked to the front of the stage. Craig surrendered his spot willingly and took a seat beside his wife.

  “There are a couple more. Easy ones, that we can figure out quickly. And they are having leadership that we trust, and self-improvement – like the weapons and martial arts classes.”

  People mulled it over. Mel took the initiative to drive her first point home.

  “The second part is already happening. That’s great. But guys, we need a leader. Here’s what I propose we do. First you think about if you want to be that leader. Tomorrow, at breakfast, you come forward and tell the group why you think you should be the leader. Tomorrow evening we vote.” She waited for a moment for that to sink in. “No beating around the bush. By tomorrow evening, we have a leader. And we push back the fear.”

  Mel took a deep breath. The hard part was coming.

  “Grief.” She said, letting the word hang in the air for a few moments.

  “Just about every one of us has gone through some ... pretty traumatic things. So how do we heal, emotionally?” Mel was going to answer the question, but somebody beat her to it.

  “Talk about it.” Maria answered. The youngest member of the group continued. “I know that it is tough, but once you get it out ... you feel better.” She said with a sidelong glance at Christine. Christine nodded back at Maria with a smile.

  “Good.” Mel said with an appreciative smile. “It is up to you to help yourself. Find one or two people that you can confide in. Share your experiences. Grieve, by all means! Let it out! ... I imagine that most of you are suffering PTSD to some degree. That’s post traumatic stress disorder, and no, it’s not just something soldiers get.”

  The usually quiet Keith raised his hand. Mel stopped speaking and looked his way.

  “Some people need physical exertion. The need to punch something. We could use that gym downstairs to release the pent-up anger and energy.”

  Mel nodded. “That’s a great idea Keith. Thank you.”

  She continued. “Other things we can do, are write things down in a journal, go find a quiet place for contemplation or prayer, or if needed get something from the clinic to help you deal with things. I found that it takes a bit of all these things...”

  She thought about it for a second, then nodded as if she had made a decision.

  “One of the best strategies for dealing with grief, is sharing it.” She looked at John. Her husband was astute enough to know she was about to open up to the group.

  “John and I have been together for fifteen years. We got through some pretty dark times together.” Her expression turned melancholy. John stared intently at his wife as she continued.

  “We both have military backgrounds. John was the ultimate warrior.” She smiled. “What a body!” A couple of the other women smiled in agreement.

  “John loved his job. Imagine when something is such a huge part of your life. And then it gets ripped away from you.” John’s face was devoid of emotion, but he rubbed his lower arm, where the prosthetic met real flesh.

  “I will not tell you what happened. That is for John to share, or not share. What I can tell you is that it took a lot of time. It took anger, and tears, and even medications. But we had to get over it. This could break you as a person, but it could also break your relationship. It was sink of swim for us.”

  She smiled towards her husband. “We did more than swim. We flew.” She declared.

  Mel smiled, then her expression become poignant. She faced the group again. “As it turned out, that was just a test for us. We had another test coming.” She paused for a moment. She was deeply troubled. John was tense. He looked ready to leap out of his seat and run to her. She locked eyes with her husband and continued.

  “You see, five years ago, we got pregnant.” Her smile was bittersweet. “This was like the gift that we needed, to help put all other tragedies behind us.”

  She shook her head slightly and genuinely smiled.

  “We were like a typical couple expecting their first child. John pretty much wanted to bubble wrap me to keep me from getting hurt. We changed our entire lifestyles! We were so paranoid, that we were at the doctor’s all the time.” She looked up at the group and grinned. “Heck, we started buying baby things and diapers during the first trimester! One room in our basement was floor to ceiling diapers and wet wipes and baby outfits!” Nancy and Rachel both laughed at this, having had similar experiences. The sound of their airy, genial laughter was musical.

  Mel’s smile slowly faded though. John was on the edge of his seat, his urgent need to protect his wife apparent to all. Mel continued after the last echo of laughter was gone.

  “I was almost eight months along, when I went into labour. This was something we were told to prepare for, due to some genetic dispositions. We were prepared and did everything we were supposed to.” Mel shuddered and was silent for several seconds. “In the end it didn’t matter. Our baby didn’t survive childbirth.” Mel took a shuddering breath after forcing it out.r />
  The cafeteria was silent.

  “We went through our own personal hell then. You know all those stages of grieving? Denial, anger and all that? Well we went through them all. It was ... tough.” A single tear rolled down her cheek. “The toughest...”

  She swallowed and wiped her eyes. Nobody made a noise. She looked up at the crowd and continued. “But we didn’t let it destroy our lives. In the end, it made us stronger.” She smiled at John and he smiled back. “We depended on each other and got through it. When one was weak, the other was the rock! We didn’t give up on life.”

  “And now I’ve shared this grief. And it’s just a little bit easier.” She nodded to herself, then looked at the group. The room was quiet for a long moment.

  “Wow. You are so right.” Craig stated from where he was sitting. He had his arm around Sarah and was holding her tight. “I was all focused on the little things when we had this huge elephant in the room. Thank you, Mel.”

  There was a murmur as just about everybody seemed to agree.

  Except Claire.

  Claire got up from her seat. She was visibly shaking.

  “I ... I don’t...” She looked around in panic and without another word she rushed out of the room.

  “Somebody go after her!” Mel said.

  Nancy and Shelley immediately stood up and started moving off. Sarah was close behind them.

  “I’m coming.” Maria said and followed the women. Shelley had seen Claire flee up the stairs, and the foursome followed.

  Once they were upstairs, they could hear Claire in the far room to their right. They walked down the hall and gathered at the door. Claire was standing near the window, facing outward into the sun. There was no doubt that if she could have run further away, she would have done so.

  Nancy took the lead and slowly walked in. Her movement smooth and measured, as if to keep from startling Claire. She found a chair about six feet from Claire and carefully lowered herself.

  Claire turned. Her hand covered her mouth, so only her eyes were visible.

  “We just want to make sure you’re ok, Claire.” Nancy assured her. “Look, I know you have gone through a terrible time. We want you to know that we are here for you.”